In relation to our previous posts on drug use and abuse among the youth, the following is reprinted from the colum of Mr. Jesus Bigornia of Bulletin Today, issue of July 3, 1977. It is published in its entirety, unexpurgated and without comment.
“Dear Mr. Bigornia:
By the time this letter reaches you, my physical body may have been either buried six feet below or lying in a state in a funeral parlor or church recieivng empty and hollow words of a necrological services.
But my death will not be in vain if you will just print this letter as it is in your column.
I was the teenage son of a ranking government official and, like most of high government officials and business executives, I was left alone to manage my young life.
My father was an honest, dedicated and able public servant. There was no question about his integrity. Everybody knows about that. To show his loyalty to the public service, he worked from 6 a.m. everyday, from Monday to Sunday. He was indeed a model.
My mother,on the other hand, maybe bored of not seeing my father except during the curfew hours, or maybe she was out to prove something, joined a women’s group engaged in civic activities, public service, parties, all sorts of ceremonies and social functions. And nobody was left at home except us, their chidren, and the maids and the dogs.
As a young boy, I alost had everything in life one would dream and cherish, but for that one thing which I needed most: parental love, car and affection. Nothing in this world can replace a a parent’s love and I was absolutely and completelly denied of that. My father never foudn time to take me out for a vacation where we can freely talk with each other. I needed him very much, but he was too busy indoctrinating his subordinates and proving to his kind how a fine example of a public servant he was. Without that kind of love, what is there to live for?
So I joined a group of young boys similarly situated like myself for there are tens of thousands like us. Our parents never forget a single speaking engagement, birthday party, official or social ceremony, courtesy call and many others. They had secretaries and remiders. Yes, they remembered everything and every occasion except their own children and family.
My father preached to his subrodinates all moral and human values, about honesty, about dedication to the service, but he never told me that he had beenr emise to his children as father.
I then turned myself to drugs to forget how unlucky I was, committed petty crimes to sustain my addiction engaged in sex orgies with similar and opposite sexes and did almost everything unconventional only to attract my parents’ attention, but were all in vain. My father vailed me out when I went to jail; fixed all criminal cases I was involved in and gave me money, car and bodyguard. He asked me several times what was wrong with me, but he never knew what was wrong with him. He never realized that it was his affection that I needed most to straighten me out, not the earthly possession, influences or power.
Hopeless as I was in this situation, i decided to wake him up from hs endless dream of loyalty and dedication to the government service. But it must be in a manner of young but lost generation: DEATH BY MEANS OF DRUGS.
I still have a living sister, though. And I dedicate my death to her. May she be given the happiness that I utterly missed from my parents.
Mr. Bigornia, please print this letter for the sake of my sister and the rest of my kind.
Thank you very much.
Farewell…
Boy”
